


Broken

by browneyedgirlie (orphan_account)



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Depression, Suicide Attempt, Turtles, Wrists, therapist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-10-15 20:21:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17535587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/browneyedgirlie
Summary: After a failed suicide attempt, John Laurens was dropped off at a teen rehab center by his good for nothing father so he could "Work his problems out."That's when John meets Alexander Hamilton, adopted son of the boss of the center. The annoying boy does nothing but pester him about his problems, since apparently he's a therapist. Fuck that.Eventually, though, John opens up to Alex and finds out they have more in common than he thought.





	1. Chapter 1

After a failed suicide attempt, John Laurens was dropped off at a teen rehab center by his good for nothing father so he could "Work his problems out." 

That's when John meets Alexander Hamilton, adopted son of the boss of the center. The annoying boy does nothing but pester him about his problems, since apparently he's a therapist. Fuck that. 

Eventually, though, John opens up to Alex and finds out they have more in common than he thought. 

\---------------------------------------

 

"Well, here's your room! We hope you'll be comfortable. Since you recently attempted, we've decided not to give you a roommate for the time being." The girl chattered nonstop, as she pushed the door open. 

"Eventually you'll get a roommate, but since you don't have one you can choose either side of the room to stay in." 

John glanced around the room, and threw his stuff at the wall. It bounced off, and hit the bed. By stuff, he means clothes. He wasn't allowed to bring anything else, since they were worried he'd try and kill himself again. Boohoo. As soon as he's out of here, he's doing it again and this time he won't fail.

"Here's your schedule! The facilitators have arranged everything to your liking, as your father gave us Info on what you enjoyed doing in your pastimes!"

"He lied. What I like doing in my pastimes is cutting myself. Now get out." He ordered, whipping around and fixing her with an icy glare.

Unfazed, she simply smiled and walked out, shutting the door behind her. The lock clicked, and he grew angry at the sound. Walking to a bed, he laid out on it, and lifted his bandaged wrist. Why couldn't it have worked? He'd be gone, away from his homophobic father and away from all his problems. 

Snatching the schedule, he scanned down the neat list.

7:30-8:30: wake up, shower.

8:30-9: breakfast.

9-10: free time.

10-11: therapy session.

11-12: physical education. (Swimming, boxing, ect.)

12-1: lunch

1-2: recreational activities.

2:30-3:30: medical analysis

3:45-4:45: Crafts. (Painting, weaving, ect.)

5:00-6:00: dinner preparation. Help cooks.

6:30-7:00: Dinner.

8:00-9:30: Movie, if you wish.

10:00: lights out.

 

He scoffed, and threw it down. There's no way this is happening. This must be one of those into the future flashes you get when you're actually dying...which, unfortunately, he isn't. 

Letting out a sigh, he looked up at the wall clock...9:30. He's definitely not watching a movie. he's tired, doesn't want to be alive, and sort of misses his turtle. 

Changing out of his stiff, uncomfortable clothes, he discarded them on the floor and crawled under the cold, weird sheets. 

This is what he's used to. Laying in the bed because he simply doesn't have enough energy or will to live to force himself onto his feet.

It's a shame he's dropped down so far to this. Depression's a bitch.


	2. Chapter 2

"RING RING RING RING" 

The quiet peacefulness of the room was shattered as the alarm clock began its blaring. John buried his head into his pillows, one hand covering his ear and the other reaching for the machine that was causing his torture.

Finding the cord, he yanked it out of the wall and threw it. A loud THUNK assured him that he'd got something, and that it wouldn't be making any more noise. 

He blinked open his eyes, and sighed. 

This wasn't one of his good days.

Not that he had any, anyways. Some days are just harder to bear, and this wasn't going to be an easy one.

Brushing the curly Auburn hair out of his face, he turned onto his side and pulled the blankets around his neck. He's not moving today. The stupid doctors and stupid therapists can try, but he's not moving. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Come on, John. There's tons of people we want you to meet!" The same woman from the day before said, brushing her dark hair away from her eye. John glanced at her, noticing the name tag pinned to her blue uniform.

"Listen, Eliza. I don't care about other people. I don't care about my health. I'm not moving from this bed or this room willingly so if you want me to go join whatever stupid activities you have planned, you'll have to drag me! Now get out of my fucking room!"

"John-" 

"OUT!" he yelled, his voice cracking. She frowned, and walked out the door without another word. 

Letting out a strangled breath, he threw himself onto the pillows. No, he's not gonna cry, he's not gonna cry...

That was a lie.

And crying doesn't even make him feel better. It just makes him more upset.

Is it time for breakfast? He doesn't know. Eating isn't a priority. He wonders of anyone is going to check on him... Not likely. 

His father comes to haunt him in his thoughts for a while.

After all, it was mostly that devil of man's fault that he's like this. If he hadn't been cruel to his wife, she wouldn't have left him and John would grow up happy.

Happy? He doesn't even remember what it feels like to be happy. He's 19 years old and instead of enjoying life, he's locked up in a rehab center. Nothing could get worse.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I just don't think it's a good idea, Alexander. He's very fragile and it's only his second day here. I wouldn't go in out of nowhere and try to be his friend. According to eliza-" 

"I don't care about what Eliza said happened! This will be my first patient. Come on, George..."

"Alex, it's not that i doubt your abilities, but this boy has anger issues as well as trying to kill himself-"

"Come on. I'm not throwing away my shot to make a difference in this boy's life! He came here to get better, and as a therapist that's my job!"

"Don't get ahead of yourself. You're not a licensed therapist, not yet."

"My brain is advanced for my age. Come on, pleeaaaase??"

"Ale-"

"Come on, dad." 

Washington sighed, exasperated. 

"So you insist you're not my son, but when you want something you pull the dad card?"

"Please?"

"Fine." Washington threw his hands up in defeat, and started looking through the files.

"Here's what he was admitted for. Have fun trying to crack this boy."

\--------------------------------------------------

John was lying on his bed, daydreaming, when the door opened.

"I thought I told you to get out, Eliza." He snapped.

"Oh, I'm not Eliza."

He shot into a sitting position, and glared at the newcomer.

"Who are you?"

"Alexander Hamilton. It's a pleasure to meet you, John Laurens."


	3. Chapter 3

"I clearly stated I don't want anyone bothering me." John hissed. Alexander kicked his shoes off and hopped on the opposite bed, therefore facing the angry boy.

"And I'm clearly stating that I'm not leaving." He answered, meeting john's angry gaze. 

"What do you even want?! Can't I be left alone to sit in here? I don't want to talk to anyone, and certainly not YOU."

"Unfortunately, we shouldn't leave you alone. And therapy is a must, so I'm not leaving."

"You? A therapist? Please. Just get out of my room before I find something to hurt you with."

"I am a therapist, as I've already graduated high school and enlisted in a university. Also, I wouldn't try anything. I could take you on in a heartbeat." 

That itself was a lie, but Alexander was kinda hoping that it worked, since he really didn't need to fight this boy. Washington wouldn't let him near him again if that happened.

"Oh really? A short, pathetic gremlin could take me on? I'm giving you 10 seconds before I throw you out of my room. I'm tired, I hate my life, and I don't want to talk to anyone so GET OUT!" John yelled, clenching his fists so hard that the knuckles turned white. 

"John, I'm sorry for barging in, but I'm only here to help you, I promise."

"I don't want your help! I want my old life back! I hate it here and after only a few minutes, I hate you! Just leave me alone!" He screamed, his face flushing red and the tears pouring down his face. He buried himself in the bed, and pulled the covers around him.

"Fine. I'll leave you be, but you need to eat. If you don't, they'll force you. You can't starve yourself." 

"Whatever. I want to die, and I'll figure out how to. You and your stupid facility won't stop me." John spat from under the covers, his voice still shaking from his sobs.

"I'll be back tomorrow. Hopefully, we can talk more after that."

"Fuck off." John threw the covers off, and glared at him. 

"Adieu, John." Alex said, writing things on his clipboard before walking out of the room.

_________________

Stupid.

This is all so stupid.

He wants to die even more than before. The second "Alexander Hamilton" walked in, he KNEW he was one of those "We're going to make you talk about your feelings!" Therapists. He doesn't WANT to talk about his feelings. He doesn't WANT to throw his life story on a therapist who would just coo and tell him everything will be okay; because it's not. Nothing is ever okay. There will always be one thing in your life that is spiraling out of control while the rest of you is fine.

He sighed, pushing the covers off of himself and stepping on to the floor. He should probably find something to eat in the cafeteria...he's not going out by starving himself. There's gotta be blood when he does. 

Grabbing his shoes, he pulled them over his socks and walked towards the door. He pulled it open, and looked to see Eliza walking towards his room.

"Oh! You're up! I was just coming to get you." She exclaimed, adjusting her name tag. 

"The cafeteria is this way. Anyhoo, how did the therapy session with Alex go?" She chirped, leading him down a hallway.

"I'd rather not discuss it." He snapped, crossing his arms and staring ahead.

Eliza noticed his anger and quickly dropped the subject, changing it to how bad the weather was turning.

Hallway after hallway they walked, until Eliza pushed open the door.

"Just go up and the cooks will give you what you need. You can sit anywhere, I'll be with some of the other therapists and such. I'll take you back to your room afterwards." 

"Who said I wanted to go back?"

"Well, um, I just assumed-" 

"Don't ASSUME anything about people. You're a pathetic excuse for a caretaker." He snapped, and turned to walk off. 

He kinda regretted it afterwards. Eliza was just trying her best, but there’s no use wasting time on him. He’s a lost soul, there’s no hope for him. 

After getting food, he glanced around the room, searching for an empty table. With his luck, there were none. The only table he was considering had one person seated at it, randomly picking at the food. 

Sighing, he walked through the room towards the table. He dropped the tray on the table, and sat down with a huff. 

The boy sitting across from him had his brown hair tucked into a bun, and his face was strained, but friendly.

“Hi. I’m Marie‑Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de Lafayette, but you can just call me Lafayette.”


	4. Chapter 4

Eliza anxiously paced the waiting room floor. Strong, brave, Angelica has been reduced to a sobbing mess, while their father stood rigid.

She still can't believe this happened.

Wiping the tears off her face, she continued to pace the floor. The taping of her shoes kept her grounded, giving her something, anything, to focus on besides the silence of the room.

The door opened, and the family turned to face whoever might be at the door, hoping, PRAYING, that-

“She’s gone. I’m so sorry.” The doctor said softly. 

“NOOO!!” Angelica screamed, collapsing on her knees. Her father knelt beside her, not bothering to wipe the tears from his eyes. 

“Take me to her.” Eliza said, her voice wavering, but determined. The doctor nodded, and opened the door. 

“Take all the time you need.” 

Eliza walked over to the still form of her sister, and brushed a small strand of hair out of her face.

“I promise, pegs, that from now on, I’ll do my best to make sure people get help. I might’ve been too late to save you, but I will save others. You have my promise.” She whispered. 

______________

Eliza walked down the halls of the rehab center, running john’s words through her brain.

Was she really a pathetic excuse for a caretaker?  
She promised Peggy that she’d take care of others...but is she even good at that? 

She felt a few angry tears well up in her eyes, and willed them away. 

She can’t cry. The people here need help, and someone to support them. She’s going to do that for as long as she can. Peggy didn’t have someone to confide in; Eliza needs to be here for these people. 

She’s sure John probably didn’t mean it. He was just angry over being...alive.  
Does he not realize how lucky he is to be alive right now? Her sister is GONE, and he is in a place where he can get the help he needs. He gets a second chance...Peggy didn’t. 

She’s going to get through to him, and she’s going to help him get better.   
Elizabeth Schuyler is an amazing caretaker, and she’ll prove it. 

_________________

“And you are?” Lafayette prompted, pointing towards him with his fork. 

John would answer, if he wasn’t shocked by how skinny he was.

Lafayette smiled sadly, as the two made eye contact.

“We’re all in for zomething, no? I am in because I am anorexic, and you are in because you tried to kill yourself. A perfect pair, ze two of us.” 

“I agree. I’m John Laurens.” He introduced himself, holding out his hand for Lafayette to shake. He did, and then dropped his hand next to his fork.

“Well, John Laurens, I am, as you Americans call it, incredibly bored. Let’s play 20 questions, oui?”

John nods. He doesn’t want to eat this food, and even though he hates to admit it, he’s lonely and wants a friend.

“You first.” He said, eyes glancing down at the bandage that was blocking him from scratching the itch on his wrist.

“Where are you from?” 

“I was born and raised in South Carolina, right smack in the middle of a racist town. What about you?”

“I was born in Chavaniac-Lafayette, France, but we moved here a little over 2 years ago. Your country is rather...strange.”

“Yeah, I know. Hm...how long are you going to be here?” He asked, a little hesitant. He hopes he didn’t just screw things up.

“Well, mon ami, one cannot tell for sure. I have not made much improvement, so probably a while. Why?”

“You seem like an interesting person, and I would have been devastated if you only had a week left.”

“Well, John Laurens, you have nothing to worry about.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I was gone so long

It was the next morning in the facility, and Washington has just found out about what had happened yesterday. 

"So. Did you even read through the file before barging in, or did you just sit and hope he'd talk about it?" Washington asked, folding his hands together as he sat in his chair.

"Well..."

"Let me have it." He took the file away from Alexander, who was seated in front of him.

"Anger issues, depression, and he attempted suicide for reasons he hasn't explained. His father dropped him off, and I wouldn't be surprised if he was responsible for some of john's bruises." He read, and placed the file down.

"Well, What should I do?" 

"First? You need to apologize. I thought I made it clear that we don't force patients to share their trauma or say we're just trying to help because, in John's case, that angers him even more. Just go up and apologize for acting without thinking and that the two of you can talk about whatever, not just about what happened to him." 

"But-"

"No buts, Alexander. You WILL apologize or you'll go on a temporary break from the facility. I don't care if it hurts your pride, GO APOLOGIZE." He ordered, and shooed him away. 

Grumbling, Alexander walked out the door and through the hallways. Brunch was over and he had no idea where John was anyway, so he'll have to search high and low for him. 

Walking around, he knocked on John's door, just making sure he wasn't occupying the room. Nothing. 

Jogging down the halls, he turned and almost ran into another patient. Thomas Jefferson, his...frenemy.

"Well well...looks like Washington DIDN'T fire you after all." He drawled, sounding a tad bit disappointed.

"You wish! Anyway. I'm not in the mood to fight with you, Jefferson, so just tell me if you've seen John Laurens anywhere." 

"Hm...the one you had trouble with?" 

"I wouldn't call it TROUBLE..."

"He's outside with another patient. They were sitting on the bridge last time I looked...and yes, what you had with him was most definitely trouble. I wonder if Washington would let me try and talk to him...instead of letting someone younger and less experienced." 

"That won't happen."

"It just might."

"Is that a challenge, Jefferson?" 

"And what if it is, Hamilton?" 

Alex glared up at him, before taking a deep breath and shifting his clipboard to the other hand.

"Well, all I'll say is you'll most certainly lose. Good day." He snapped, and walked towards the glass doors. Throwing them open, his eyes scanned the surrounding area. 

Sure enough, John and another guy were sitting on a bridge, dangling their feet over the edge and talking. 

He took a deep breath, steeled his nerves, and started to walk over. The Slight October wind sent his hair in all directions, sticking to his lips and just getting in the way.   
————

"Oh! Look!!" Laf pointed to a small creature that was swimming in the pond. 

"It's a turtle!" John breathed, and leaned closer. The turtle poked his head out of the water, staring at the two boys. 

"I'm getting in with him." He said, starting to take his shoes off. 

"No! You could get sick, and your arms are not healed yet. If they get infected, you could end up in the medical center and trust me, mon ami, it's not good." 

John pouted, looking down at the turtle, who looked up at him and blinked. 

"Uh oh...here comes trouble." His friend whispered. John looked up, and his small dose of happiness drained faster than he thought possible. 

Alexander Hamilton was walking towards them, his loose hair blowing in the wind, clutching his clipboard to his chest. 

"Wonder what he wants." 

"Probably to try and get me to talk again. I ain't saying shit; he doesn't need to know my life story. I'll be dead as soon as I'm out of here anyway." John responded, narrowing his eyes as the younger boy approached. 

"What do you want? Is it time for something else on any of the dumbass schedules?" He snapped, glaring up at him. 

"Actually, I just wanted to talk to you." 

"Then talk." 

Alex turned to Lafayette and then back at John.

"I wanted to talk to you ALONE." He answered, his voice strained. 

John's eyebrows rose in surprise, and he turned to laf, who, to his surprise, was almost to the building. He turned and shrugged sheepishly, before walking inside. 

"Fine. What do you want?" He asked, pulling his knees to his chest. 

"W-Well-"

"Cat got your tongue?" He taunted, looking up at him. 

"I'm not used to apologizing so just shut up and let me, all right?!" Alexander hissed. 

"Look, I was a dick, okay? I'm sorry. I'm just trying to work hard and make Washington proud. This is all I've ever wanted to do and you're the first patient I thought I could help. Turns out I did the opposite and I'm SORRY. We don't have to talk about whatever happened at home, we can talk about anything in particular. I don't want to be your therapist, I want to be your friend." He rushed, fidgeting with his pen all the while. 

"You...really mean that?" John asked, the angry feeling rapidly fading. 

"Yeah. We can talk about your favorite books, or the weather, or turtles if you want." He answered, sitting down next to him.

"And, I suppose I'm sorry for blowing a fuse like I did yesterday as well. You WERE just trying to help, even though you did pretty much the opposite. I just HATE people who tell me everything is going to be okay. It's NOT. You'll never be completely okay in life. And I don't want to share my feelings so I can feel better. It just doesn't work that way." John said softly, looking down in the pond. His eyes held sadness, and a small tear dripped down his face. 

And that's when Alex realized how pretty John looked, with the wind blowing his hair around aimlessly and the sun casting him in a warm glow. His tear sparkled in the light, and he has a sudden urge to wipe it away and make sure he never cried again. He doesn't like seeing him upset.


End file.
